Alien: Revolution
by Wonkaverse
Summary: Following the events of Alien: Resurrection, the USM Auriga does not simply explode into bits of debris in the Earth's atmosphere. Ripley and the survivors of the Betty crew will discover their battle is not over yet… Rated M for language and gore
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: All characters and organizations from _Alien, Aliens, Alien3_, and _Alien: Resurrection_ belong to Ridley Scott and associated studios. We do claim creative rights, however, to the original characters introduced in this story.

**Author's Note**: Following the events of _Alien: Resurrection_, the _USM Auriga_ does not simply explode into bits of debris in the Earth's atmosphere. Ripley and the survivors of the _Betty _crew will discover their battle is not over yet…

_Steelbourne Offshore Shipping Facility, Earth_

At 0500, a spaceship fragment was sighted in the water to the East. It had sunk by the time a boat had been launched to investigate, but the trawling crew managed to recover several cryotubes and some medical equipment. The tubes were still frozen and sealed, the inner surface of the glass covered with a thick layer of opaque frost. There could have been survivors in them. The cryotubes were promptly sent to the medical bay, where the resident doctor and his assistants examined the first tube. Its readout had a series of nonsense numbers and letters. The only legible word was [sterile]. It made no sense. Nevertheless, the doctor cut the tube open with an electric saw, the assistants pulling the glass cover away.  
Mist spilled out from the open tube, thinning to show what looked like a half dozen huge, leathery eggs. All but one of them was damaged by the frost.  
"What the hell is this?" one of the assistants asked.  
The doctor shrugged. "Probably some kind of animal egg. You know how them space travelers like picking up new lifeforms for study."  
He turned to the assistant next to him.  
"Hey, Zorphus, poke it with a glass probe."  
"And why the heck should I do that, Doc?"  
"Consider it a stimulus test. It's obviously some kind of egg, so nothing should happen until it hatches."  
Zorphus looked uncertain, but he was also curious. He picked up a glass probe from a medical tray and gently tapped the strange egg.  
It started to open, its top peeling back like a perverse banana. It revealed some sort of membrane. Zorphus leaned in closer to see, when suddenly something came shooting out and latched to his face. He only struggled for a second before he lost consciousness.  
The other assistants swore and jumped back. The doctor bellowed at them to initiate quarantine protocols while he examined Zorphus. The thing that had latched onto the assistant's face resembled something like a mix of an octopus and a scorpion. Its skin was rubbery with a waxy texture. It had eight long legs and a long, whiplike tail. The legs were firmly grasping Zorphus's head. The tail was tightly coiled around his neck. It seemed to be breathing for him. What it was, the doctor could hardly guess, but he had to figure out how to get it off of Zorphus without killing him...and how to prevent this from happening again. Several minutes later, everything was ready. Zorphus's vitals were stable, and he had been placed on an examination table. The thing on his face appeared to be unresponsive to external stimuli, but the doctor was taking no chances. He and two of his assistants were in full biohazard suits, preparing to remove the little beast...whatever it was.  
"Prepare local anesthesia," the doctor said. He wasn't sure if Zorphus could feel anything in this condition, but he wasn't going to risk the possibility. An assistant applied it to the patient, then stepped back to make way for the doctor.  
"Here we go," he said, looking over the facehugging alien. "I'm not sure what this thing is, but it looks like it's got a pretty firm grip on our friend. I could cut off its tail, but that might make it choke Zorphus to death."

"What about cutting the legs off?" one of the assistants asked.

"Possible, but time consuming since there a lot of them. Might cause the tail to tighten anyway. No matter what we do, it might kill him." He grunted in frustration. "Here's what we'll do. We'll attempt to cut it at the upper knuckle of its legs, at least try to expose Zorphus's eyes. Maybe, if I'm fast enough, it can be removed in pieces."  
The assistants looked dubious, but they weren't the ones with the medical degree. The doctor produced a surgical laser and powered it on. He made a quick incision and skillfully removed a large chunk of the creature's flesh...but then he hit some kind of major artery that was too large for the laser to cauterize. The creature's blood sprayed the doctor and the assistants, burning through their suits. They cursed and screamed as they struggled to remove the suits before the acid reached their skin. The blood also trickled down along the places where Zorphus's skin met with that of the parasite. Their skin burned, fusing together. Blood dripped down along the creature's tail and burned through the skin to Zorphus's spine, joining his nervous system with that of the creature. His one exposed eye shot open and he screamed, the sound muffled by the thing on his face. His jerking movements flung the alien's blood across the room, where it spattered on the unopened cryotubes. Electronics sparked and fizzed as the acid burned through, and the tubes opened...just as the doctor and his assistants managed to get their suits off. The eggs contained within them opened one by one, facehuggers leaping out to find a host. In moments, the doctor and his assistants were down, with a parasite firmly attached to their faces.  
Outside, a janitor happened to walk by, wheeling a mop and bucket in front of him. He glanced through the observation window, cursing when he saw the doctor and his assistants on the floor. He was about to swipe his keycard to open the door, but a facehugger dropped down through the vent above him. He fought it, but its tail wrapped around his neck. It squeezed until he blacked out, and latched onto his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Ripley opened her eyes to darkness, disoriented for only the briefest moment before she remembered...  
She had escaped the _Auriga _before it had broken apart in Earth's atmosphere. Then, with Call, Johner, and Vriess, she had crash-landed the _Betty _on what they had thought was a desolate island...but in a matter of minutes, they were surrounded by soldiers.  
The _Betty _crew was then transported to an underground facility - an old mine that had been reappropriated for military use. Ripley had been separated from everyone else and thrown in a cell. And while she knew she could easily break out, she was curious to see what was going to happen.  
She sensed these military men were different than the ones who had created her. They looked hard and rugged, not soft and weak like General Perez had been. They had a particular lilt to their speech that Ripley knew from her genetic memories was an Australian accent. _Interesting_. What was Australian military doing on this little island? And why hadn't they immediately turned Ripley and the others over to the United Systems Military? Perhaps there was a little conflict between them. She might be able to use that to her advantage.  
Ripley turned her thoughts to more pressing matters. By her senses, she knew that it had been a week since the _Auriga _was torn apart. She also knew that all the xenomorphs had had died from the heat of atmospheric reentry...but there were hundreds of frozen eggs that had not. She had a feeling that those eggs would find suitable hosts. It was only a matter of when.

Blinding lights snapped on, and Ripley jumped to her feet as the door to her cell swung open. A man in tan fatigues strode in, flanked by two armed soldiers. The man had a leathery face with dark, probing eyes and a deep-set scowl. A thin mustache accentuated his frown.  
"I'm Colonel Harris," he said flatly, clearly making the introduction with reluctance. "I assume you know why we set you apart from the others."  
Ripley shrugged. "Not really, no."  
"Your fingerprints identified you as an officer, and the the others were nothing more than pirates. We've questioned them about what happened on the _Auriga_, and why they crashed here. They only gave us a crazy horror story about dragon aliens and monsters with acid blood that burst out from people's chests. Just a load of crock from a bunch of drugged up criminals, if you ask me."  
"And you think an officer might give a clearer insight into what happened?" Ripley guessed.  
"Under normal circumstances I would expect it. But seeing as you've been hanging around with these criminals, I can only assume your integrity would be compromised somehow. What I did come to ask, is how you managed to falsify your fingerprints to link to the service records of a woman who's been dead for 200 years. I've never seen that one before."  
Ripley looked at him, unflinching under his steely glare.  
"The same way the dragon aliens with acid blood were made," she said evenly. "You might even say we're related."  
Harris's eyes seemed to probe her, like he was looking for any indication of a lie.  
Ripley didn't budge.  
Harris's scowl deepened. "Very well. You don't want to talk to me - I understand. You criminals are all the same. A few more days in lockup might change your mind."  
He turned to leave, but Ripley called after him.  
"Perhaps you might get some answers by running a genetic test on me. You know, to figure out how I faked my fingerprints and all."  
The Colonel only grunted, and was gone.

_Steelbourne Offshore Shipping Facility_

Zorphus was woken by the sound of something tearing, followed by a high-pitched screech. He opened his one free eye, confused but strangely at peace. He sat up on the medical table, casting his vision over the bodies of the doctor and other medical assistants. Something was bursting out of their chests in a spatter of blood and gore. They looked like snaky lizards or little dinosaurs. They were covered in blood, and immediately began tearing into the flesh of their hosts to feed. Perhaps his thoughts were confused with the nervous system of the facehugger, but for some reason Zorphus thought these little creatures were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. It was like he could feel them, these newborn children. He could feel their precious little minds, unfocused and lost without a queen, a mother. He slowly slid off the table and approached them.

"Come to me," he thought. "And I will protect you. I will be your father."

The little xenomorphs stopped their feeding to look at him. They sensed the facehugger attached to him. They decided he was kin. They approached him and crouched at his feet, waiting for his thoughts. He told them to eat and grow. There were plenty of other humans here. He would make sure they had enough meat.


	3. Chapter 3

_Underground Facility  
_  
Ripley lay on her bunk, waiting. She could sense her friends were being kept in the cell next door. They were angry and anxious. Ripley wanted to reassure them, but she knew they wouldn't be able to hear her anyway. So she waited, staring intently at the door until it swung open to permit entrance for two burly soldiers.  
"We are to escort you to the Med Lab for genetic tests," one of them said.  
Ripley stood up and smiled. "Of course, gentleman. Lead the way."  
They led her down a series of corridors, all of them were little more than tunnels carved into rock. There were pipes and wires running along the ceiling, and light bulbs hanging down to light the way. They finally came to a metal door marked Med Lab. One escort pushed it open and motioned for Ripley to step inside. Ripley went in, observing her new surroundings in calculative silence. This medical bay was much less sophisticated than the one in which she had been grown. All of the medical equipment were bulky, beeping affairs that had messes of wires protruding from them. The walls and ceiling were bare rock, though white tile had been laid on the floor. The space was lit by fluorescent lights. There was not a stasis tube or regeneration pod in sight. Ripley wondered just how they were going to conduct the tests, if they only had such primitive equipment to work with. No matter. She decided it would be entertaining either way. A woman appeared from a back room, carrying a black bag. She was obviously a doctor - not only was she wearing scrubs and a white coat, but the two soldiers visibly straightened as she approached. She shot them a stern look, like they had been under her care one too many times.  
"Thanks for bringing her," she said to them. "Just wait outside until we're done."  
"But ma'am," one protested, "protocol dictates -"  
"Protocol dictates I could give you a shot if I deem it necessary," she snapped. "Or perhaps a colonoscopy? You boys have been in for abdominal pain quite frequently. Perhaps I ought to inflate your intestines and shove a camera up your butts, just to be safe."  
The escorts shared a nervous look, then retreated.  
"We'll be outside if you need us," one said. He didn't look back as he hurried out.  
Now alone, the doctor turned to Ripley and smiled pleasantly.  
"Sorry about that. Those boys only listen to me if I threaten them. But I guess that's the drawback of being a woman in a man's line of work."  
Ripley chuckled. "Tell me about it. I'm Ripley." She held out her hand. The doctor shook it. "Erin Dawson." She paused to look at Ripley's dark, claw-like nails.  
"Oh, it looks like you've got a nail fungus. I've never seen it that bad before. I have a cream for that."  
Ripley pulled her hand away. "No, don't worry about it. It's all right. They've been like that since I was...born."  
Dawson gave her a strange look, but didn't press any further. She gestured to a metal chair.  
"Please, sit. I'll just be taking some blood samples for the genetic tests. The Colonel seems to think it'll prove something, though he won't tell me what."  
Ripley shrugged. "He thinks it'll prove that my friends and I are lying. He thinks it'll prove we're all just crazy criminals and drug users. Did you hear the story?"  
Dawson opened her bag and pulled out a rubber strap and syringe.  
"I heard parts of it," she said slowly. She tied the strap around Ripley's arm to express the vein.  
"But it did sound pretty far fetched. I mean, aliens that burst out of people's chests? I saw a lot of shit when I was serving with the USM, but never anything like that."  
Ripley said nothing, but she chuckled to herself when the doctor prepared the syringe to take a blood sample.  
"What's the joke?" Dawson asked.  
"You'll see in a second," Ripley replied, just as the needle bit into her skin. Dark blood was drawn into the syringe, but the metal needle and medical-grade glass began to dissolve, letting off a cloud of vapor.  
Dawson swore, leaping back. The syringe fell and shattered on the tile, blood splashing outward. The blood ate part way through the tile, and the bits of syringe became liquid.  
Ripley ignored the blood dripping down her arm; the wound would close itself in a moment. She gauged Dawson's expression, which was less shocked than she had expected.  
"So it's true," Dawson said grimly. "The rumors." She looked at the bloodied tile, which was still burning from the acid. She shook her head and zipped up her bag.  
Ripley looked at her in question.  
"So that's it? No tests?  
Dawson sniffed in amusement. "As far as I'm concerned, we're done here. Just from that, I'm able to say that you are who you say you are...or a clone of her, anyway. And as for the 'dragon aliens', well. I've known they were real for a long time...though I didn't think they actually burst out of people." She shook her head. "I just kept hoping the USM would never succeed in getting a hold of them."  
"How do you know all that?" Ripley asked. This doctor, unlike all the others she had known, intrigued her.  
Dawson sighed as she drew up a wheeled stool to sit on.  
"Several years ago, the USM sent out a personnel request to all subsidiary military facilities. Earth, Mars, Charon...they were requesting medical personnel and scientists to staff a research vessel for a top secret project. I had finally gotten off Earth to do research on the moon. I was fresh and bright, eager to prove myself as an equal among my peers. So I volunteered for the project." She laughed bitterly.  
"The things we did were appalling by any standard. Definitely not ethical. We were attempting to prove that cloning a parasite within a human host was possible. The results were...horrifying, to say the least. Separating the host DNA from that of the parasite _in situ_ was extremely difficult. But we eventually did it. And then we replicated the procedure ten more times, just to prove it that the first time was not a fluke. Of course, by then we were all wondering why we were doing this in the first place. And that's when we heard the rumors: that preserved blood samples of a certain Lt. Ellen Ripley had been found in storage at a remote facility. The same Ellen Ripley who claimed to have fought and killed aliens with acid blood...and died trying to keep them from the Weyland Corporation."  
Dawson shook her head sadly. "But there was nothing any of us doctors could do at that point. We were thanked and paid for our research, and promptly dismissed. Most of us left, but others, like Dr. Gediman, agreed to continue working on the next phase of the project. As for me, I'd had enough. I was pissed off enough at the USM to move back to Earth. Nowadays, of course, most of Earth is pissed off at the USM, so I'm in good company."  
She paused, looking at Ripley carefully.  
"We never were able to completely separate the host DNA from the parasite in any of our experiments. It's obvious from your blood that Dr. Gediman and the others were still not able to do it. So what's it like, being part, uh, _them_?"  
Ripley grabbed a tissue and wiped dried blood from her arm.  
"A lot like it was before, I guess. But now I don't have to worry about _where _the aliens are. I can just sense them." She paused, looking towards the door. "Speaking of which..."


	4. Chapter 4

The door flew open, and Col. Harris marched in, a woman in uniform at his heels. They seemed to be arguing, but it wasn't clear what it was about. Ripley caught the words "patrol" and "missing", but that was all. The Colonel dismissed the woman, who snapped a crass reply before leaving.  
"You're such an asshole, Jack!"  
Then she stomped off.  
The Colonel approached Dawson, his face redder and his scowl deeper than usual. "So what did the tests say? Who is she?"  
Dawson looked at the Colonel steadily, unfazed. "She is who she says she is, sir. She _is _Lt. Ellen Ripley."  
The Colonel began to splutter indignantly, but she cut him off.  
"She is a clone, sir. Most likely cloned aboard the _Auriga_. You do know it was a scientific research vessel, don't you?"  
Harris glared at her, but did not refute.  
"And what of the claim about dragon aliens? Am I supposed to accept that that's true, too?"  
Ripley smiled, though it was nothing less than ferocious. She ripped her shirt open to expose her chest, showing the long, pale incision scar below her breastbone. "I can guarantee you, Colonel, that it is true. The mother of those dragon aliens...was my...baby."  
Harris looked disgusted, but he could not tear his eyes away from that scar. Nor could he ignore the fact that a section of the _Auriga _had crashed on the island, and the patrol he had sent to investigate it was now unresponsive. He, too, had heard the rumors. But unlike his other military counterparts, he did not doubt the deadlines of the alien enemy. He was afraid, though he refused to show it. He barked at the two soldiers still standing outside, barked at Dawson, and left. Dawson handed Ripley another shirt.  
"Not many people can freak out Harris like that. Well done."  
Ripley smiled, but it was quickly replaced by a frown.  
"He's right to be freaked out, though," she said lowly." I sense something is coming, and it's not as friendly as me."

_Auriga, island crash site_

Private Wilson cursed his foul luck for getting posted to this shit detail. He cursed the USM. He cursed Earth. But most of all, he cursed Col. Harris for sending him on a patrol as cannon fodder. Of course the Colonel knew there were freaking aliens on the ship. Of course he would know that said aliens would stick to faces like a nasty organic mask. Of course he knew he was sending Wilson and his buddies to their doom. It made sense. After all, it was no secret that Col. Harris was a dick. Not to mention that he had been in the pocket of the USM for years..

_Well, shit._ Wilson shook his head ruefully as he regarded his unconscious buddies. They had gotten some kind of aliens stuck to their faces in the ship. Wilson was fortunate to have missed that part, but he had to drag them all out of the ship in hope that they might be spotted by another patrol. Only, there hadn't been another. And none of the crappy radios were working, and it was ten miles back to the compound, and now he found that the patrol jeep had a flat tire.  
"Just my luck," he muttered to himself. He sat down nearby his buddy, Private Doakes. He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag while glancing at the sunset.  
"This blows, don't it, Doakes?" His companion didn't reply, of course...his face being covered and all. Wilson puffed on his cigarette for another minute before dropping the butt. He stood up and crushed it under his boot. He figured he would have to build a bonfire. Maybe someone would see it once it got dark. He turned away to look for some wood, freezing when he heard coughing. He whirled around to see Doakes sitting up, the parasite lying dead on the ground beside him.  
"Hey Doakes!" Wilson ran up to him, relieved beyond words. Doakes only looked around in confusion.  
"What happened mate? All I remember was that we were looking through the ship, and there was these weird eggs..." He paused as more of the soldiers coughed, the dead aliens falling away as they sat up and rubbed their faces. Wilson didn't know what to make of it, but he was glad. Maybe his luck was changing.


	5. Chapter 5

_Underground Facility_

"Ripley!"  
Call's youthful voice cheered Ripley as she was escorted into the mess hall by a soldier. Ripley smiled and hugged her, then walked over to the metal table where Vriess and Johner were sitting. Ripley smiled and patted Vriess on the head, and punched Johner on the shoulder.  
"Oof, good to see you too," Johner grunted.  
"Did they interrogate you, Ripley?" Vriess asked.  
"Not quite," Ripley said. "But I got the doctor to believe me about what happened on the _Auriga_. I'm sure the Colonel is starting to believe it. Something tells me things are about to get ugly again."  
"What do you mean?" Call asked.  
Ripley lowered her voice. "Eggs. On the _Auriga_, there were eggs stored in specially insulated capsules. I noticed them, in the same lab where we found Purvis. If someone goes into what's left of the _Auriga _and stumbles across those..."  
"Shit," Johner growled. "Are you kidding me? We literally blow up a ship to kill these things and they still ain't dead?"  
Ripley shook her head. "I'm afraid not."  
Johner sighed. "Well, fuck."  
"Sorry to interrupt this lovely reunion, but I brought you here to talk to you."  
Ripley and the others looked up to see the uniformed woman that Ripley had seen earlier with Col Harris. She had tanned skin and a mane of frizzy hair swept back just enough to meet regulations. Her eyes held a spark of mischief and toughness that reminded Ripley of the lady Marine from her past, Vasquez.  
"I'm Captain Avery Slate," the woman said with a nod. "I apologize for any mistreatment you may have experienced; we don't get visitors that often."  
"What about pirates?" Ripley said. "The Colonel seems to have handled his fair share."  
"Never mind the Colonel," Slate said briskly. "He doesn't seem to have our men's best interest at heart these days."

She cleared her throat uncomfortably..  
"I'm going to be honest. I didn't believe your stories at first. But after consulting with Dr. Dawson and reading the reports she gave me, I cannot deny that there must be some truth to what you have said. So I'm going to be frank: do you know how to kill those creatures you talked about, and can people be rescued from them?"  
Johner spat to the side.  
"Lady, like I was saying a minute ago - we brought down a whole spaceship to kill those fuckers. If that didn't do it, what makes you think they can be killed at all?"  
Ripley slapped him across the face.

He swore. "What the _hell_, Ripley?!"  
Ripley ignored him. "What my friend means to say is that it's difficult, but it can be done. In my experience, fire has always been the alien's greatest weakness. If there is a nest, we can find it and burn it. And if we're not too late, it _is _possible to save people from them."  
Slate looked thoughtful. "Good. Then it's settled. We'll leave for the wreckage of the _Auriga _at 0600."  
"Wait a minute, I don't remember signing up for anything," Johner said. "And what about Vriess? What do you expect him to do, fucking crawl?"  
Slate's eyes took on a steely look. "You're going to do it because it's your only way out of here. Col. Harris wants to hold you until the USM arrives so he can turn you in. Frankly, I don't give a rat's ass about the USM. But I do know a whole patrol of my men has gone missing, and my nephew was on the detail. So you can either come and help me, or stay here and wait to go to prison."  
"Jeez, lady," Johner muttered, "I didn't say no. But I ain't kidding about Vriess. His legs don't work."  
"I'll have it seen to," Slate said crisply. "Meanwhile the rest of you can adjourn to your bunks. At 0500, I'll have you brought to the weapons depot. By 0600 I want to be at the motor pool and heading out."

_Auriga, island crash site_

Wilson had built the fire and the revived patrol gathered around it. They bitched about the jeep and how the spare tire was flat, and the oversight of an incompetent command. But the grumbling boosted their morale. They discussed their options as they tore into MRE's.

"Hey, if nothing else, we can hike back," Doakes said as he wolfed down some reconstituted spaghetti. "It's not like we don't hike ten miles in the tunnels and across base everyday anyway."

"That's true, but I thought you hated the spaghetti, Doakes," Wilson laughed.

"I'm just real hungry, I guess," Doakes mumbled, his mouth full. The others seemed to have the same appetite. Even the more disgusting meals were soon cleaned out.

"Jeez," Wilson kidded, "it's like you're eating for two. You pregnant, mate?"

Doakes and the others laughed until they coughed. Doakes stopped when he started coughing up blood.

"Shit," Wilson said.


	6. Chapter 6

_Underground Facility_

Ripley's eyes snapped open, and she sat straight up in her bunk. She had dreamed - the only way she could explain it - that she had seen through the eyes of a xenomorph. It was young, newborn. She felt it bursting through an unfortunate person's chest, ripping through bone and muscle and skin. She tasted the air, felt the rush of fresh life...and the drive to breed. In that moment, Ripley knew that a xenomorph queen had been born. Which meant their time was running out. She didn't try to sleep any more, instead reaching out with her senses. She figured this facility was manned by fifty, maybe sixty soldiers. That wasn't counting civilian contractors - a dozen or so janitorial and maintenance workers. So about seventy bodies. Seventy potential hosts. Ripley felt her gut churn, but it wasn't out of fear for herself. It would be a miracle if even a fraction of the population escaped the shitstorm that was ahead.

Ripley rose and dressed, choosing loose clothing to give her the most mobility. She knew it was not yet 0500, but there was no use hanging around. She slipped out of her bunk room without disturbing Call, who was in sleep mode. She cursed under her breath when she saw a guard posted in the corridor. Her mind raced, searching for a solution. For some reason she looked at her nails, and she got an idea. She had never tried climbing walls before, but if a xenomorph could do it, then couldn't she? She experimentally grasped the wall nearest to her, pleased to find that her nails punched into the rock enough to give her a firm handhold. She took off her boots and tied the laces together, slinging them around her neck so she could use her feet to climb as well. She felt a surge of satisfaction as she climbed up the wall with ease. Now for the real test - the ceiling. She kept to the corner, away from the lights. She was now about ten feet high, at least four feet over the head of the guard. She climbed as quickly and as silently as she could, hoping that she would not dislodge any rocks or dirt as she passed over the heads of the guards. A few minutes later, she arrived at the Weapons Depot undetected. She dropped down to the floor. She tried the door, unsurprised to find it locked. She examined the lock, taking a deep breath before punching through it with her fist. The door opened, and she went in. There were racks and racks of weapons and ammunition, and all kinds of explosive ordinance. Drawing from her past memories, she picked up a rifle and a flamethrower, and multiple rounds of ammunition for each. She also picked up two pistols, which she holstered on each hip, and a grenade belt. She was about to make her way out when Captain Slate came in, holding a mug of coffee. She seemed unsurprised to see Ripley already kitted up. And if she noticed the broken lock, she didn't show it

"I guess I'm not the only one who couldn't sleep," she said, sipping her coffee. "But I'm glad you're as eager to get going as I am. I've already sent for your friends, Call and Johner."

"What about Vriess?" Ripley asked.

"See for yourself," Slate said with a grin. "Come in, Vriess."

Ripley was honestly surprised to see Vriess walk in on his own. His paralyzed legs seemed to have been encased in mechanized armor, similar to those of the loaders that Ripley had run in her past life. The power legs responded to his brainwaves, allowing him to walk on his own once again.

"It's a miracle, baby!" Vriess crowed in delight. He started looking over the racks of weapons to choose his arsenal. "I'm ready to kick some alien butt!"

A few minutes later, they were joined by Call and Johner, who immediately brightened when they saw Vriess.

"You got new legs," Johner said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now you can get back at me for all the crippled jokes."

"Don't sweat it," Vriess said, cheerfully giving him the finger.

Call gave him a little hug.

"How does it feel?" she asked, winking. "You're part android now."

Vriess laughed in agreement. They all gathered as much as they could carry, then headed to the motor pool. There, they were joined by four soldiers in full tactical gear. They were armed to the teelh, with everything from knives and pistols to sniper rifles and bazookas. Ripley felt a wave of deja vu, but she kept it to herself. She knew they would need all the firepower they could get. Slate introduced the soldiers as Thompson, Lee, Davies, and Smith. They all had the grizzled look of experienced fighters. Thompson was a huge bear of a man, every available space on his body covered with some kind of tattoo. Lee was a smaller man, but his eyes held a cunning fit for a strategist. He also carried a compliment of explosives, obviously a trained grenadier. Davies was stocky and built like a tank. He was carrying heavy weapons and ammo. He didn't say much, but he nodded at Ripley in respect. Smith was tall and lanky, and as handy with vehicles as he was with a sniper rifle. He shook Ripley's hand as they all boarded the transport. They were about to leave, when Dr. Dawson rushed in, climbing into the transport with surprising agility. She was carrying a large duffel, no doubt filled with medical supplies.

"Erin, what are you doing here?" The Captain said.

Dawson gave her a serious look. "I have a feeling you're going to need a medic around, for what you're going to do."

The Captain looked like she was about to argue, but she held her tongue. Dawson was right.

"Let's go," was all she said. Smith jumped into the driver's seat and drove them out of the motor pool and away. No one really spoke on the way. Cpt. Slate had briefed the soldiers on the nature of the mission. First priority was to find and rescue the lost patrol. The second priority was to destroy the alien nest...if there was one. The ride was about thirty minutes, but after twenty minutes the wreck of the _Auriga _came into view. In the light of the dawn it was dark and shadowy. Lee sighted the patrol's jeep, but no one near it.

"Maybe they're holed up inside," Thompson suggested.

"Then we'll have to go in," Slate said grimly.

Ripley frowned, but said nothing. It was about to begin.


	7. Chapter 7

Smith brought the transport to a halt about a hundred feet from the _Auriga_. Cpt. Slate divided the group into two teams. She was going with Ripley, Viress, Thompson, and Davies. The others were to stay with transport to make sure nothing unwanted got on board. Lee activated a set of cameras and headsets, distributing them to the outgoing team.

"Just to keep in touch," he said, setting up some monitors and sliding on a headset of his own. He saluted. "Good luck, Captain."

The team picked up their gear and headed out, all senses on alert as they approached the wreckage of the Auriga. There was a yawning gap that led to the interior, but it was dark inside. Thompson and Davies flicked on the spotlights on their helmets, and the others activated the flashlights strapped to the bottoms of their rifles. Slate activated a motion tracker and scanned for movement. There was nothing.

"Don't let that fool you," Ripley said ominously. It's gotten people killed before."

"What do you mean?"

Ripley smiled. "Just remember: that screen is two dimensions. We exist in three."

Slate wanted more of an explanation, but they were walking into the wreckage now. Silence would be key if they didn't want to attract any unwanted attention.

Lee's voice crackled over Slate's headset. "Doing a vision check, Captain. Please look at Vriess."

Slate complied.

"Thank you. Looking good, Vriess."

"Yeah, you look like a fucking transformer!" Johner horned in.

Vriess grinned, only making a rude hand gesture.

Slate shook her head, reminded of the banter of her own men. Her face hardened. She was determined to find them.

The team made their way through the darkened interior of the ship, taking care to step around holes and fallen debris. There was no sign of life, either human or alien. But Ripley new better.

She could sense the presence of Xenomorphs, but they were few...maybe six or seven. The queen was old enough to breed now. She would grow quickly, and the drones would be making the nest ready, stockpiling it with hosts. If her past encounters were any indicator, the nest would be somewhere dark and damp, but spacious enough for the queen and her eggs. Ripley spoke quietly into the headset.

"Lee, can you run a scan of the wreckage? Which part of the ship are we in?"

Lee was quiet for a moment.

"Looks like the forward half of the ship, or most of it. You're going into the back...what would have been the middle."

Ripley paused, thinking. "Then the only place suitable enough for a nest would be the command deck."

"And how would you know that?" Slate asked.

Ripley laid a hand on the wall next to her. "Because this was my home." Though no one asked her to, she automatically moved to the front of the group to lead. Thompson offered her a flashlight for her rifle, but she declined. She didn't need to see to know where she was going.

She led them along long corridors that had doors on either side. Crew quarters, Ripley explained. Then they passed through the gym, and then through the Medical Bay. There were tools and pieces of equipment strewn about on the floor, which glinted in the light. From the Medical Bay, they climbed a flight of steps, crossed an unstable catwalk, and finally came to the command deck. The door was jarred open by a fallen bulkhead. Ripley paused. "There's something here," she said. She breathed deeply, scenting the air. "It's human."

Slate nodded to Thompson and Davies, who brushed past Ripley to get through the door. Their lights pooled together to sweep the area, which was pitch black. Their lights swept across broken monitors and overturned chairs and scattered papers. Something clattered from the shadows, and everyone whipped around to train their guns on the source of the sound.

"Stand down!" Slate ordered. "It's Wilson!"

Everyone lowered their weapons as Slate rushed over to crouch beside Wilson. He was unarmed and haggard, his eyes wild with fear. There was a large gash across the side of his face, like he had been clawed by a large animal. He looked at Slate with wide eyes. "Captain? Is it really you?"

"Yes, Wilson," Slate assured him. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and he broke down.

"I tried to call for help, but the radios were down and the comms up here are dead and then there was -"

"Wilson," Slate said firmly," I need you to get a hold of yourself. Can you do that?"

Wilson took a long, shaky breath. He nodded.

"Now, where are the others?" Slate asked. "Where is Doakes?"

Wilson swallowed. "Doakes is dead. They're all dead."

Slate stepped back. She seemed to deflate. Doakes had been her nephew. How was she going to break the news to his mother…

She was startled out of her thoughts when Wilson suddenly grabbed her pistol from its holster. Thompson and Davies rushed at him, but he trained his gun on them. "Stay back!" He screamed, his eyes wild again.

"Wilson, what are you doing?!" Slate barked, back in command mode. "We're here to help you!"

"No one can help me," Wilson said mournfully. He pointed the gun at his head, then lowered it to his chest. "Now run, before no one can help you." He screamed as a screeching chestburster ripped through his ribs, but he managed to squeeze the trigger and empty the magazine into the alien and himself.

"Fuck," Johner said over the headset.

And everyone agreed.

Slate regarded Wilson in shock. A lone tear leaked from her eye, but she forced her emotions back. Her men were dead, and that was that. "I guess that means there is no priority one." She murmured. "But I don't see any nest."

"That's because there isn't one yet," Ripley said grimly. "Which means the drones are still looking for a place to make it."

She looked at the floor thoughtfully, kicking the metal deck with her boot.

"Hey, Lee, you there?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Run me another scan. This time check the ground beneath the wreck. I have a hunch, but I want to make sure it's right."

"What's the hunch?" Slate asked.

"Your base is set up in an old mine, right?"

"Right."

"And what do mines have?"

"Tunnels?"

"Yes, tunnels, Ripley said pointedly. She kicked the deck again. "Miles of tunnels, all underground."

Realization dawned on Slate. She swore. "I hope you're wrong."

"Unfortunately, Captain, she's right," Lee chimed over the headset. I'm seeing a large tunnel directly below the Auriga."

"Shit," Vriess spat.

Slate paused, making a decision.

"We're going to have to split up," she said. Lee, I want you and your team to head back to base. Warn them. Put the base on lockdown. How you do it - I don't care. But seal the access doors to the mines."

"Got it, Captain. But what about you?"

"We're going to take the tunnels on foot, heading to the base from underground. If we're lucky, we'll run across the alien bastards and kill them on the spot."

"Okay. Good luck, Captain."

Slate looked at the others with her. "Now, who's ready for a ten mile run?"

Vriess grinned as he took off on his mechanical legs. "I am. Let's go, ladies!"


	8. Chapter 8

_Underground Facility_

Col. Harris was reviewing reports at his desk when his intercom chimed.

He pressed a button.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Two things, sir. One, Jensen and Kirsche were supposed to work on the access doors to the mines today to update the codes. They haven't checked in yet."

Harris grumbled under his breath. Damn civilian contractors, always going AWOL.

"Never mind them," he said coolly. "I'm sure they'll turn up. What's the other thing?"

"Captain Slate, sir. She requisitioned some weapons and a transport. She assured me she had gotten your authorization in advance, and that you had the paperwork, but..."

Harris swore. "Where is she now?"

"From the transport's GPS, it looks like she's ten miles to the northwest."

Harris swore again. Despite his orders, she had gone to the Auriga. Damn women. USM officers probably didn't have to deal with this shit.

"Send out a patrol to meet her," he ordered. He would have her thrown in the brig for this.

There was a crackling sound over the intercom, something scraping and papers fluttering. A scream. Then silence. Harris felt a chill run up his spine.

"Report!" He ordered. "Report, damn you!"

But the intercom was silent. Harris felt sweat form on his forehead. He heard a raspy sort of hiss, and he slowly turned around. His stomach turned to ice. A xenomorph stood before him. Still not fully grown, it was about his height but no less deadly. Saliva and water dripped from its gaping jaws. It seemed to study him. Harris started to back away, but the xenomorph lunged forward and grabbed him, pinning him to the desk. Harris screamed and cursed and struggled, but to no avail. The xenomorph pounded his head against the desk, and his world went black.

_Auriga, island crash site_

"This is it," Ripley announced as they approached a gaping hole in floor. She paused to scent the air.

"They've been here, but not for a few hours. They're probably headed toward your base, if they're not there already."

"What makes you so sure?" Slate asked. "There must be plenty of places for them to live in the mines."

RIpley smiled darkly. "Doesn't matter. They're like lions hunting zebras. They'll go where the meat is."

Thompson snorted.

Ripley turned to look at him.

"Is something about that funny to you?"

"Just that it would take at least a hundred enemies to overpower our base. Those, uh, lions...would get shredded."

Ripley's eyes narrowed. "What exactly do you think these aliens are like, Thompson?"

The soldier thought for a moment.

"The Captain said they were like eight foot tall dragons. I've wrestled a twelve-foot croc before, so I imagine it's like that."

"Well, you're wrong," Ripley snapped. "Crocodiles are just dumb beasts. They don't have intelligence. All they know is eat, sleep, and shit. But these aliens, these xenomorphs...are something else entirely." She stepped right up to Thompson, unfazed by the fact he was a foot taller than her.

They're smart. Patient. Deadly. They can hide in the shadows or chase you down, slicing your guts open before you even knew what was happening."

Thompson seemed unimpressed. "Eh, sounds like a cassowary," he said, shrugging.

"Sounds like my mum," Davies quipped.

Ripley rolled her eyes, but dropped the conversation. They would learn soon enough.

Smith brought the transport to a stop fifty feet from the motor pool. Lee thought it was overkill, but everyone else was spooked by what they had seen over the cameras. It wasn't so much of a stretch of imagination to think that those chestbursting aliens could have beaten them to the base. Lee tried to radio the base, but there was no answer.

"What, are they all sleeping?" Johner asked.

"I think we're too late," Call whispered.

"So what do we do, then?" Dawson murmured. "The last thing I'd want to do is go in there and find out."

Lee was about to second the sentiment when the radio crackled.

"Lee, can you hear us?"

Captain?" Lee said. "Where are you?"

"We followed the tunnel. Since you can hear me, I guess we're below you somewhere."

"Can you see the access doors?" Lee asked. "I'm not getting any response from Command."

Slate was quiet.

"Captain?"

"No, Lee. We can't see the doors, but that's not the problem. I think we found the nest."

Slate stared at the tunnel walls, which were covered by some sort of black, glassy resin. A little ways away, the resin was overgrown by some kind of organic, pulsing tendrils that laced together to make a solid covering. The team cautiously stepped over the tendrils that snaked across the floor.

Meanwhile, Ripley cast her senses around her. "This way," she said. She pushed some hanging tendrils aside to show an open doorway. A whitish mist spilled out into the corridor.

"Well, we haven't got all day," Ripley said impatiently.

"Ladies first?" Vriess said.

Ripley rolled her eyes and went in, followed by Slate and the others. They passed through a narrow corridor, which twisted and turned. The corridor opened up.

Vriess started to swear, but Ripley clamped a hand over his mouth.

They were standing at one end of what used to be a maintenance warehouse. The walls and floors were all covered with the organic tendrils. Some of them visibly pulsed and writhed. But more frightening were the cocoons plastered to the walls and columns. Each cocoon contained a person, with only the face exposed. Many of them had facehuggers attached to them. The others were either dead or unconscious. In the center of the space was the Queen. She was almost full sized, having gorged on the flesh brought to her by her drones. She was laying eggs, but it was slow since she was not yet fully developed. Most of her drones, on the other hand, had reached full maturity. These ones stood at their full eight-foot height and tended to their queen. When she laid an egg, one of them would collect it and carefully set it near a ready host.

"Fuck," Thompson mouthed. He forgot about the croc he had wrestled. He knew he was no match for these monsters.

Ripley chambered a round in her rifle. "It's slash and burn time," she said lowly.

"But what about the people that got captured?" Slate asked. "Can't we rescue them?"

"There's no way to do that in time," Ripley said. "There's no way we could tell who's been infected and who hasn't before the drones kill us. The best we can give them is a quick death."

Slate was going to argue, but suddenly a jagged blade punched through Davies's ches, slicing through his heart. Blood poured from his mouth, and he lifted off the ground, impaled on the tail of a xenomorph. The others jumped back and fired whatever weapon they were carrying. The xenomorph collapsed in a steaming mass, but the commotion got the attention of the others. They came bounding over, screeching. Ripley slammed another mag into her rifle and chambered it, letting loose a hailstorm of bullets to shred one xenomorph. Thompson roared as he fired a grenade launcher, taking out two more of the xenomorphs in a spectacular explosion of alien guts and fire. Vriess used a flamethrower to burn the hosts and eggs. The queen shrieked in rage, and Ripley recoiled, feeling her pain as she detached from her egg sac. Now fully mobile, the Queen reared to her full ten-foot height and roared. Her razor-sharp talons caught hold of Thompson, and he screamed as his ribcage was slashed open. More drones leapt down from the ceiling, Ripley shot one to pieces before tossing her empty rifle away. She pointed the flamethrower at the next one, but it batted the flamethrower away with its tail and lunged for her. Ripley leapt back and jumped up onto the wall. Her nails punched into the wall and she held on while she drew the pistol with her other hand. The xenomorph seemed to be caught off guard by this human's unusual behavior. It was unprepared for the bullets that punched through the middle of its head and killed it.

The flames from Vriess's flamethrower were consuming everything. The Queen was trying to kill Vriess, but he was able to keep it away with his flamethrower.

"We have to get out!" Ripley shouted.

"Not before I kill this bitch!" Vriess growled. He shot more flames at the Queen, making her screech in pain. But then the flames stopped, because Vriess had no more fuel.

The Queen lunged forward and caught Vriess by the legs. She crushed the power legs, making them useless. Vriess swore. Slate was trying to shoot the Queen, but her rounds were bouncing off of the Queen's exoskeleton. Ripley growled and jumped. She landed on the Queen's back, and she pulled out her other pistol. The Queen roared and tried to scrape her off, but Ripley dodged and pushed the gun against the weak spot on the Queen's head.

"No more killing my friends," Ripley growled. She squeezed the trigger, and the Queen's head burst. Ripley narrowly avoided the spray of acid blood by backflipping off of the Queen. She landed and was greeted by Slate.

"I don't know what you are, but that was awesome."

Ripley laughed. With Slate's help she carried Vriess out and up to the Motor Pool.

They met up with the others in the transport. Lee and Smith were mourning the deaths of their teammates, but they were glad that the Captain had made it back. Smith used an electric saw to free Vriess's legs from the crushed power legs. Vriess looked at them sadly.

"Easy come, easy go," he sighed.

Dawson tended to their cuts and scrapes. Her mood was subdued.

"We were watching that whole fight in the nest," she said. How you had to kill all the people...the hosts...along with the aliens."

"It was the only way," Ripley assured her.

"I know. But it just doesn't seem right."

"With these creatures," Call muttered, "Nothing is ever right."


	9. Chapter 9

Once everyone's wounds were treated, Slate consulted with Lee and Smith.

"It'll only be a matter of time before the USM comes around. No doubt they'll be looking for someone to pin the blame on for this. We need to get out of here."

"Well, Steelbourne is the nearest place with airlift access. I say we head there."

"How are we going to get across the water to Steelbourne?" Slate retorted. "It's offshore."

"I thought of that," Lee said. "Just trust me."

Ripley had never seen so much water. It was amazing and terrifying, the way the water, or "the big blue" as Dawson had called it, stretched off into the distant horizon. Lee and the others were setting up some inflatable boats with motors, loading them with supplies from the transport.

Before the hour was out, they were speeding across the dark, salty water. Ripley sat at the front of one of the boats, enjoying the wind and spray on her face. Call sat next to her, amused by Ripley's sense of wonder at something so simple.

"Really beats being stuck on a spaceship, huh," she said. Ripley laughed.

"That is an understatement."

They sped across the water for almost an hour. Slate pointed to the west. "There she is...Steelbourne."

Ripley looked at it wonder. It was a multistory structure, towering over the water like a city building in the middle of the ocean. At its "base", where the water's surface met it, there was a series of floating docks with various types of boats moored nearby. Higher up, near the top, there were platforms for airships and space shuttles. Ripley couldn't see any activity at the moment, but she imagined that this facility could hold a few hundred individuals. For some reason, that didn't feel like a pleasant thought.

Their boats came up to the floating docks, where they moored and stepped off. Johner graciously agreed to carry Vriess on his back, not unlike the way Christie used to. The others kitted up with weapons and supplies. Slate was hoping they would be safe here, but it was better to err on the side of caution.

Just as they were clipping the last of their ammo into place, a man came strolling up, swaying to maintain his balance with the rising and falling of the dock. He appeared to be some sort of attendant, by the clean cut of his uniform. He did not seem appalled at all by the arrival of eight heavily armed people. He grinned and bowed.

"Welcome, welcome to Steelbourne! I am Peter, the dock manager. Please, come this way."

Without asking so much as who they were or why they were here, Peter turned around and strode back the way he had come. Ripley exchanged a glance with Call. There was something weird about the man, but she couldn't quite place it. Perhaps the salty air was messing with her senses. They followed after him, stumbling once or twice before they got used to the swaying of the dock. Peter led them to an elevator. He waved them in. "Push the button for Lobby," he said cheerfully. Catherine will meet you there. She handles guest amenities."

"But we don't want to stay -" Slate tried to say, but the door closed between them. The elevator's door was made of a clear sort of glass or plastic, so the group could see as the elevator went down. It dipped below the water, giving them a spectacular view of the dark, blue expanse of the ocean depths. Huge fish swam past them in schools. The dim outline of a whale moved slowly in the distance.

"I don't like this," Smith muttered. "It feels like being stuck in a trap."

"It's not like we had any other choice," Lee retorted. "Besides, they seem friendly enough here. I mean, guest amenities? Sounds nice. I haven't heard of that on any other shipping facility. If they're _that _kind, then surely they'd be willing to lend us a ship."

The elevator dropped down into a dark shaft for a moment, before coming out into a bright chamber. The door opened, and everyone stepped out. Ripley looked around in awe. Her genetic memories of Old Earth came alive. It was like they were standing in the lobby of a fancy hotel. The floor was covered in a rich, red carpet. The walls were covered with gold-gilded wall panels. The lighting overhead was soft and pleasant. And everywhere, there were fancy potted plants and furniture and fountains. Unlike the docks, this place seemed to be bustling with activity. There were men and women in red uniforms carrying packages and luggage, and people in what was obviously casual attire were milling about. Everyone was smiling, unbothered by these newcomers that were armed to the teeth.

"What the fuck is this?" Johner muttered.

"I don't know," Vriess said, "but it's like we stepped into the past. It's giving me the creeps."

"No, this isn't the past," someone said. Everyone turned to see a red-headed woman approaching them. She was wearing a business suit and heels. The name placard on her chest read Catherine.

"I'm sure it must be jarring for travelers like you to come into a place like this," she said. "It's still jarring for those of us who live here, to be honest. But we modeled this place after guest houses from the past called hotels, in order to offer any ship crew or traveler a comfortable place to stay. It sure beats a cramped bunkroom, doesn't it?"

"I suppose so," Slate said carefully. "But how many travelers does Steelbourne get? I thought this was mainly for industrial transport."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Catherine replied. "Adventurers from the space colonies love coming to this area to tour Australia. There's just something fascinating about the one continent on Earth where everything evolved to kill us humans." She shrugged. "I don't understand it, but I can't complain. More business for us."

"Actually, uh, Catherine," Slate said, "we were just passing through. We were hoping you might have an airship or shuttle we could borrow or purchase."

Catherine thought for a moment. "I suppose something could be arranged. We recently acquired a few shuttles. But I have a condition."

Slate braced herself. "Name it."

Catherine smiled. "Allow us to show you a day of hospitality. You poor creatures could obviously use it." She noticed Vriess on Johners's back. "And let's get this gentleman a wheelchair."


	10. Chapter 10

Catherine herself escorted them down a carpeted corridor to a series of rooms. She handed everyone a card key.

"Now, I don't know how you prefer your sleeping arrangements," she said, " but I'm giving you two rooms. I'm afraid it's the best I can do until another guest leaves. Each room has a bed, a bunk bed, and a fold-out. Please, make yourselves comfortable. When you are ready, come back to the lobby and we can see about getting you something to eat. You must be hungry this late in the day."

She bid them goodbye and departed.

"I guess we can split the rooms up into guys and gals," Dawson suggested..

"Unless you want to go co-ed," Johner said with a wink. Ripley smacked him.

"Damn it, that's getting old, Ripley!"

Ripley only smiled innocently. "Just like you, right?" She turned away before he could respond.

Everyone freshened up in their respective rooms. Though Slate didn't want to let their guard down yet, she allowed everyone to drop most of their gear. She did, however, suggest that everyone carry at least one sidearm. Once they were ready, they went back into the lobby. This time, they were approached by a man in a concierge uniform. He nodded at them.

"Ah, you must be the new arrivals. I am Topin. Catherine asked me to escort you to dinner. But perhaps you would like a little tour first?

Johner's stomach rumbled. "Uh, how long is the tour exactly?"

"Fairly brief," Topin responded. "Just a few key facilities you may need during your stay."

"Then let's get this over with, Johner grumbled.

Topin led them through more carpeted halls, showing them the various amenities the hotel had to offer - a spa and gym and theater and the medical office. Ripley was as impressed as everyone else, but she also found this place to be quite bizarre. A hotel like this was quite out of place for a shipping facility...no matter how its residents justified it. It was like putting nice wallpaper over a disgusting moldy wall to hide it from sight. So what were these people hiding?

She looked at Topin carefully, coming to the conclusion that he looked too happy, too cheerful. He was leading them to a door with stained glass panels.

"And here is our all-faiths chapel, he was saying. "I don't suppose any of you are religious at all?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"Well, that's quite all right," Topin said amiably. "Not everyone is destined to be elevated to the next life."

Dawson raised her brow. "Next life?"

Topin looked embarrassed. "Oh, I'm not very good at explaining it," he murmured. "I'm a new believer. But here - meet our minister. He can explain it much better than me."

He opened the door and waved everyone in.

The chapel was a room large enough to hold maybe a hundred people comfortably, but was still small enough to be cozy. There were rows of folding chairs in the middle of the floor space, and a podium at the front. Various religious icons rested in alcoves in the walls. There was a man dressed in a hooded robe tending to the candles on a table. Topin called to him.

"Zorphus, I've brought visitors!"

"Very good," a robotic voice replied. The man turned to approach them, his face hidden by the hood. "Welcome, friends, to our humble home. I pray it may be a place of enlightenment for you. Perhaps you might even seek to be elevated, in time."

Slate and Dawson shared a look.

Ripley glanced at Call, when something moved out of the corner of her eye.

"Watch out!" She shouted, whipping out a pistol.

A xenomorph had appeared. It did not appear to be in a hurry. For some reason it was clutching a mop in its claws.

Everyone else pulled out their own weapons and would have fired, but the man called Zorphus cried out in his tinny voice and stepped between them and the alien. "Stop!"

"It's an alien!" Slate growled. Those things killed my men. Why are you defending it?"

"Because, Zorphus said, drawing back his hood, "it is one of us."

Ripley stared. Zorphus's face looked like something out of a nightmare, or an early experiment aboard the _Auriga_. There was clearly a facehugger on him - it was still breathing for him and everything. It looked like there had been an attempt to remove it, as one of his eyes had a hole to peer through. But his skin looked like it had melded with the facehugger. An electronic voice synthesizer had been attached to his throat, enabling him to speak without his mouth - explaining the robotic voice.

"He," he said as he pointed to the passive xenomorph, "is Charlie. He was our main janitor before he was elevated to the higher form you see now. But he still likes to help with mopping from time to time."

Slate felt a chill run down her spine.

"You...seriously think that that monster is your dead friend?"

Zorphus laughed. "But of course!" He appeared to notice everyone's horrified expressions. "Let me explain. Topin, you may go."

Topin made his exit, and Zorpus continued.

"I'm sure you all understand the concept of evolution. How species are constantly adapting to survive better than other species in what is basically an arms race. That explains the progression of the body, but what about the soul? No one can argue that humans are not soulful creatures. What makes us who we are, our essence, must go somewhere when we die, or else it is wasted. So when we discovered these creatures and how they grow, of course it only made sense that the human body is no better than a meat vehicle for the soul. And when the soul leaves the body at the same time one of these new creatures is born, it must enter the new body that burst forth. After all, that new body is just as much the flesh of that soul as its old body. It's an advancement," he said grandly. "A new step in human evolution. Think of it, an end to human infirmity. An end to disease, an end to disability. An escape." His eyes rested on Vriess.

"For instance, if you chose to be elevated, you would have a new body. You would be freed from the confines of that chair, resurrected in a more powerful form."

"So what about you?" Dawson asked, trying not to look at the xenomorph. "You look like you've had that thing on your face for a long time. Why haven't you been, um, elevated?"

Zorphus sighed. "Ah, it is an unfortunate sacrifice I must bear as a minister for this new revelation. My crawler is sterile, and joined with my mind and body during an accident. But I am happy to play my part as an emissary. After all, our facility has become a much happier place since I won many souls to this ideology. Believe it or not, the whole hotel thing was a cover for a drug and human-trafficking operation before. But now it will be a gateway for elevating people all across the galaxy - a more pure and holy mission!"

"How many people here have you taken?" Call asked through gritted teeth.

Zorphus couldn't grin, but his eye glinted in amusement. "All of them."

"How?" Ripley asked. "You wouldn't have enough eggs to...elevate...even half of the people in the hotel."

"That is where you are wrong," Zorphus replied." Along with a dozen eggs, we recovered a cloning pod from the wreckage of a ship. Thus we are able to generate as many as we need for our sacred mission." He paused. "But...how would you know about the eggs?" He looked at Ripley as if seeing her for the first time. His eye widened, and he took a step back. He sensed the Alien blood in her, but it made no sense to him.

"You...are kin? But you are not carrying. You are not elevated."

"I'm elevated enough," Ripley retorted.

Zorphus appeared at a loss for words. But then he shouted. "Blasphemy! Charlie, subdue them!"

The xenomorph dropped the mop and lunged forward. Everyone drew their pistols except Ripley, who jumped in its path. The xenomorph paused, smelling her. It detected the Queen-blood in her. It bowed.

"Charlie, get her!" Zorphus screeched. But the xenomorph had found a higher command.

"Give it up," Ripley said. "You can't stand between a mother and her children."

Zorphus didn't reply, his eye flashing in anger. "I don't know what you are, but you are just...just a filthy human. You will not stand in the way of my calling!" He pulled a radio from beneath his robe.

"Catherine, it's time. Begin the Release."


	11. Chapter 11

Everyone trained their guns on Zorphus, but he only sneered at them as a siren started going off.

"What's that?" Slate growled. "What did you do?"

"If you were planning on leaving," Zorphus said, "then I suggest you try now before everyone has been released from their pathetic human forms."

No one bothered to ask him what he meant. They ran out the way they had come.

"Screw this," Smith was saying as they ran down the corridor. "I say we just take one of the ships. Fuck this place and their freaky cult."

"I would agree," Slate said, " but we have a problem." She had come to a halt because several dozen of the hotel workers had gathered in the corridor, blocking the way. They did not appear angry, because they were all smiling. They were holding different objects - knives, wrenches, crowbar, staplers...whatever they had picked up from their workstations.

"What the hell?" Lee muttered.

The workers started beating themselves with whatever they were holding, screaming in unison, "For the Release!"

The self-inflicted injuries triggered the chestbursters, and the little aliens came shooting out of their hosts simultaneously in a spectacular shower of blood.

"We're fucked," Johner grunted.

"No," Ripley said. "I'll distract them. I'm the monsters' mommy, remember? But you - all of you - go."

"Ripley, you don't -" Call started to say, but Ripley turned away and walked toward the swarm of newborn xenomorphs.

"Let's go!" Johner said urgently, pushing Vriess's wheelchair toward a side door. Call took one last look at Ripley, then followed the others.

Ripley knew the newborns would not harm her. She was less confident about the two full-grown xenomorphs that punched their way up through the floor. She held her ground and waited, letting them smell her. One of them was a drone. It picked her up gently and carried her back into the darkness from which it had come. The other xenomorph and the newborns followed. It was time to build a nest.

Slate led the group out onto the landing deck, and she pointed to one of the shuttles.

"Smith, you think you can hotwire that?"

Probably," he said.

"Then do it. Lee, you cover him. The rest of us will grab as many supplies as we can from that supply depot over there."

"Copy that, Captain."

Lee and Smith ran over to the shuttle to secure it. Meanwhile, Slate and the others plundered the supply depot for weapons and food. Call was clipping a grenade belt around her waist when she turned, eyes widening.

"Captain!" She shouted, but it was too late.

A xenomorph had crept up behind her. Its inner jaws shot out and punched through her skull before she could react.

"No!" Dawson screamed.

"Shit!" Johner shouted. He pulled out his shotgun thermos and blasted at the creature, destroying its shoulder, but not killing it. It shrieked in pain and lunged toward Johner, but Vriess shot it dead before it could reach him.

"I guess I owe you one," Johner grumbled.

Vriess shrugged. "We're a crew, dammit. We gotta stick together."

Lee came running up,stopping short when he saw the Captain's body on the ground.

"Avery, she's…is she?"

"I'm sorry," Call said softly. "We were attacked."

Lee swallowed. "No, that's okay. She...she knew the risks of joining the military. At least you killed the fucker that got her. I also rigged the other ships to explode after we lift off. I figure we need to blow this cursed place to kingdom come."

"Then we better get the hell out of here," Johner grumbled.

Call hesitated. "Give me twenty minutes. I'm going back for Ripley."

"Like hell you are," Johner snapped. You're just one little girl. A synthetic, sure, but those fuckers can kill you just the same."

"I don't care," Call retorted. "Ripley's saved us how many times now? I think it's about time someone saves her."

"Ripley's great," Vriess said, "But I ain't going back in there."

"Then stay and guard the ship. If I'm not back in twenty minutes, take off."

"I'm coming with you," Dawson said, grabbing Vriess's rifle.

"What are you going to do?" Johner snorted. "You're a doctor."

Dawson narrowed her eyes as she chambered a round. "Not _just _a doctor. I'm Australian, love."

Ripley slid out of the drone's arms. They had come to what looked like a storeroom, but this one had been rigged up with something like an assembly line...but it was pumping out xenomorph eggs. A drone stood at the end, calmly moving the newly cloned eggs to an empty space on the floor, where another xenomorph was extruding a glossy resin from its mouth to make the nest.

The multitude of newborns had dispersed, clustering in the shadows to sleep and grow. Ripley did not know what the xenomorphs expected of her, since the machine was generating the eggs, but she was content to remain. Her friends were alive. That was all that mattered.

"You!"

Ripley sighed in exasperation. She knew that mechanical voice.

"Yes, Zorphus. Me." She turned to face him. He was standing with Charlie the xenomorph, who was ineffectively dabbing the ground with its mop.

Zorphus was angry. His eye was flashing with anger, his facehugger flushed. "What are you doing in this most holy of sanctuaries, you blasphemer?"

"I was...invited," Ripley said with a smile. She walked towards him. "In all honesty, I don't know why you don't like me, Zorphus. All of these creatures came from me, so you and I should at least be friends."

"What you say is impossible," Zorphus growled. "These blessed beings couldn't come from you, unless you were dead.

"Is it?" Ripley asked. She ripped open the front of her shirt and traced her scar with a finger.

"Or is what _you _say impossible?" She grinned darkly. "I once carried a chestburster, Zorphus. but it was removed from me...and I still live in the form that you see now. Having these things rip out of your chest is not elevation. It's procreation. No host survives it, either in body or soul."

Zorphus's eye darkened. "You are a liar. A false prophet!"

"This isn't a religion," Ripley replied. She walked over to Charlie. "This isn't one of your followers, nor are any of the aliens. If it wasn't for that thing on your face, they would have killed you like anyone else."

Zorphus didn't respond, but he noticed a monkey wrench on the ground.

"If what you say is true," he said casually, "then why are you still alive?"

"Because they are in me," Ripley said. "Behind my eyes. In my blood. I am a hybrid. And you, Zorphus, are a mere wannabe."

"Blasphemy!" Zorphus screeched. He scooped up the wrench and swung at Ripley, who dodged. Zorphus swung again, but the blow was blocked...by Charlie's tail. The xenomorph snarled and lunged at Zorphus, who didn't even have time to scream before he was decapitated by the creature's jaws. It flung his body away, where it was swarmed by the hungry newborns. Charlie paused to smell Ripley, as if it was making sure she was unharmed. Then it bounded away, followed by other grown xenomorphs. Ripley wondered where they were going, until she heard gunfire echoing through the chamber. She headed toward it, wondering if it was the USM. There were a couple explosions, some automatic fire, then silence. Ripley rounded a corner, her face lighting up in surprise. Call, Johner, and Dawson were standing over the steaming remains of the older xenomorphs. Call waved.

"We figured we should rescue you this time," she said.

Ripley laughed. "Well, you're all idiots. But I'm glad you came back for me. Now let's blow this joint."

"Smith and Lee have that covered," Dawson said. "There's a ship ready for us. We just have to get back up there. Let's go before the guys decide they're better off without us."


	12. Chapter 12

They ran up to the landing deck, where Lee was waiting for them on the ship ramp.

"Let's go!" He shouted.

They broke into a run, but time seemed to slow as a half-grown xenomorph jumped down from the top of the shuttle and pinned him to the deck.

Dawson fired her rifle, but it was too late. The xenomorph bit out Lee's throat and bounded toward its new targets. Ripley was done. She snatched a grenade from Call's belt and pulled the pin as she ran. She leapt up to meet the xenomorph in the air, jammed the grenade in between the plates of its exoskeleton, and leapt away. The xenomorph burst apart, and the way was clear. Ripley, Dawson, and Call hurried onto the ship and closed the ramp behind them.

"Good to have you back," Smith said from the pilot's seat. "You had five minutes to spare. Where's Lee?"

Call lowered her eyes. "He's dead. Another one if those things got him."

Smith took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Then let's get the hell out of here before anymore of them make a move on us. It's what he would have wanted."

The ship lifted off, and shot away over the water. A few minutes later, there was a massive explosion. Through the back portholes, they were able to see Steelbourne being consumed by smoke and flames. "Good riddance," Vriess muttered.

"So where are we headed?" Smith asked. "The USM will probably be looking for us in the area. We need someplace to lay low for a while. Any suggestions?"

"We're not exactly from around here," Johner said. "So, no."

"I think I know a place," Dawson said with a smile.

The ocean waves lapped at Ripley's bare feet, and she smiled as she basked in the light of her first sunrise. Dawson and Call were with her, sharing this special moment with her. They had managed to land on another island, this one off the coast of New Zealand. Dawson said it had been one of her favorite getaways as a child. It was a peaceful place. More importantly, it was isolated. A refuge.

There would probably come a time when they would have to find another safe place. But for now, they deserved a good rest after all the horrors and loss they had endured. Who knew if it would be the last that they would get?

_Australia, southern coastline_

A sealed cryotube washed up on the shore, along with bits of metal and debris. The tube was remarkably undamaged - perhaps because it had been painstakingly fortified with extra shielding. Its life support was stable. Its flickering readout read

[queens].


End file.
